Monthly Archives: October 2012

TNSOFT ep. 10


Princess Cinnamon sat in her room, looking restless. Next to her was her bag, with only few of her belongings and some warm clothes the captain gave her. She could hear Coco’s footstep getting closer and closer, and she didn’t even know whether she should share her thought or not.

“Princess!” Coco opened the door, and closed it again quickly.

“I’ve told you to stop calling me princess!” Princess Cinnamon sighed.

“I’ve just talked to the captain, and he said he would be able to help us to find a place in the Harbour City in the Kingdom of Music. Isn’t that a good thing?” Coco looked so happy and ignored whatever protest came from the princess.

The Princess sighed again. She shook her head slowly, and regretfully. She knew that the captain must have told her about the Harbour City of the Kingdom of Music. It is the city where people from all around the world is gathered. It is the lively, crowded and very big – and as Banjo said, the big cities always have this kind of attraction. But Princess Cinnamon didn’t want to go there. She had her own destination.

“What? Why are you shaking your head like that?” Coco suddenly felt uncomfortable with the lack of excitement which was so unexpected coming from someone who abandoned the life inside the castle wall to chase an adventure.

“I don’t want to go to the Harbour City,” said Princess Cinnamon.

“But we are going to disembark there,” Coco stated the obvious, merely because she did not know anything else to say.

“I know, but I don’t want to stay at the Harbour City. I am going there…” Princess Cinnamon gave Coco the banjo she had from Banjo years ago.

“You’re going to… a banjo?” Coco didn’t get the riddle.

“Look behind the banjo, you can see the city where it was made printed there,” Princess Cinnamon rolled her eyes as if what she had just said was so obvious.

“Right… The Fortress?”

“Yes, it was Banjo’s hometown, and he said he was going to go back there. The city should be surrounded by walls, and looks like a fortress. It used to be a fortress, Banjo told me…”

“Wait…” Coco interrupt before the princess started to tell her the whole story about The Fortress City.


“So we’re going to this land because you want to meet that outcast?” Coco suddenly snapped. She could not comprehend what was going on in her princess’s head.

“Of course not, but I want to go there, just because… I am not even sure if Banjo is still there. I just…”

“Why not Harbour City? What makes it different? It is in the same land…”

“Banjo said the Fortress City is so much different than the city we know, Coco. If Harbour City is like the town center of the kingdom, The Fortress City is… different.”

Coco did not bother to hide her unhappiness. Going to a place that’s thousands miles away from home is bad enough. Why do this little spoiled brat had to make it even harder by trying to find a place that was completely different from what they’re already familiar with.

“I understand if you don’t want to do this with me. I am grateful that you’re here with me today, but…”

“But?” Coco raised her left eyebrow, what she always does whenever she suspected something really annoying was coming.

“But if you don’t want to go to the Fortress City with me, and you’d rather go home or stay at the Harbour City, I am totally understand,” Princess Cinnamon tried to put no pressure at all. She knew that Coco still had this sense of responsibility of her well being, and it would be so difficult for her to say no and leave the princess alone in a world full with strangers.

“Oh would you please shut it up,” Coco snapped again.

“Coco, you don’t have to feel obligated…”

“Yes. Yes. I know. You’re not my princess anymore and I don’t have to stay with you, but what if it is what I want to do?”

“Is it?”


Lying and not telling the truth are two different thing for Coco. She, for instance had never told the princess about the extra desserts Bull always managed to smuggled for her every evening after dinner. Or the fact that she could make the other servants to do her chores by ‘borrowing’ the princess’ name, and basically if she did it very carefully without colliding the tasks from the King or Queen, nobody would raise any question. How convenient. And convenient is the only purpose of those little cheatings. It’s not harmful, no one would get hurt.

Constructing a well schemed lie is so much different. It is a big story, supported by the other small stories to make it look believable. It could go wrong anytime and that was exactly what Coco did not want to make happen. She did not know what she had betted, but she knew what she might lose if things went not exactly what she planned. But the thing that bothered her the most was not the risk she’s facing, but the guilt she’s feeling.

How does guilt feel?

It’s the sickness, worse than the seasickness that she felt in the stomach whenever she walked soundlessly out from their cabin, in the middle of the night. It’s the shiver she experienced every time she closed the door very carefully, making sure that it wouldn’t wake the princess up. It is the frustrating hour she spent to justify what she did because she needed to feel better about it. Telling herself it’s for a greater good.

He told her the same.

But how much she could believe a man she only met once in her life? A man who claimed to help and not to take opportunity in their adversity. A man who told her she had done the right thing.

He told her that when all of the princess act could be controlled again, she would be back to the palace. And Coco would once again sleep in a nice warm bed, and meet Bull who’s going to make the bed even warmer. She would be able to spend the days reading books or walking in the town, without having to worry about the storm and the sea. He told her that everything would be back to normal.

Coco just didn’t know right there when he said it, that normal was not exactly what she wanted. She enjoyed this abnormality, and started to understand why Princess Cinnamon wanted this. And the last thing she wanted to do was to crush the dream of her princess, except that was the duty she carried the first day she sailed to the sea.

“Remember Coco, you’re helping her by doing this.” She remembered condescending tone, and the responsibility which was passed to her with this short sentence.


Coco closed the door silently. She walked rather hurriedly, knowing she was few minutes late from the agreed time. Once in awhile she would look back, making sure that nobody was following her, and keep telling to herself that the princess she was serving has fallen asleep. Safe and sound.

That man has been waiting for her there. He did not look worried, angry nor impatient. In fact, he did not show her any emotions. He greeted her formally, and checked in her like what he has been doing every day since last week.

“You know what? I don’t think I need to report to you every single day. I’ve told you it was a false alarm,” Coco finally said after reporting.

The man smiled understandingly. He shrugged and sighed.

“Just like you, I’m just doing what I was asked to do. You cannot undo what has happened. You sent the dove, you triggered the alarm, and I’m here to make sure everything would be okay,” his smiled looked a little bit bitter now.

Coco sighed with him. She looked very sorry. Not only for her but for everybody who are involved because of her idiocy. She should have never sent that bloody dove.

But what a helpless servant can do? She was panic and scared and there’s a chance that the one that she cared a lot would just die in the middle of the ocean. A dove was released to send a message to the palace, which means the princess is in danger. So last week when the ship was reloading food supply in a port a man came and introduced himself to coco as the guard the queen sent to eye both of the girls. He carried not only responsibility to protect the two young ladies, but also an instruction from his highness to get daily report about everything.

“How do I know you are not a poser?” Coco squinted her eyes after Spike, that’s him according to his introduction to Coco.

So Spike showed her two letters. One of them she knew very well. She knew every word which was written there, because it was her letter to the queen. The other one was from the queen, with the crown stamp and everything. The message was short, just like how queen always deliver her commands:

“This is Spike your guard. Report to him everyday about her status, don’t let her know. Bring her back soon.”

Pretty simple. No pressure.


Do I Owe You Something? (Part 2)


This is not the first time my mother sent me those forwarded messages. Or some people familiarise themselves with chain messages. You know the kind of message which basically full of bull crap, condescending shits, and literally sickening. What worse about these chain messages is that they ask you to pass this junk to other people. Why the fuck I want to do that?

Maybe you remember my long obscene and agonising rants about spamming people through blackberry broadcast? Well basically since then I decided to just delete anybody who sent me these piece of shit. Resulted to the significant decrease of people on my contact list. But fuck I couldn’t delete my own mum.

Just because she’s my mum.

Lately she sent me the more annoying messages about parents-child stuffs. I remembered the first time she sent me those kind of message was ended with “if you love your mum, pass this to other people”. And what? If I don’t pass that bloody stupid poetically sickening message, then it means I don’t love my mum? Why the hell she wanted me to read that? That’s stupid.

Sorry. She’s my mum and I love her, but that kind of stuff is shit.

And this morning, just when I woke up, I got a message from mum. Same shit, different smell.

Okay. My mum didn’t pay my education for nothing. I studied communication to understand even the more subtle messages than that. If she wanted to say something, just leave those badly encrypted codes, and just say it in my face, and we can settle this. Sending me a picture with a quote “surga di telapak kaki ibu” (heaven is under your mum’s feet), and ask me if it was funny wouldn’t make me feel anything but sick and annoyed.

I was so tempted to say what if I don’t believe in heaven? Or how about those whose mum doesn’t have feet? That proverbs was heavily flawed if you want to make your kids feel obliged to love you because you are their mum. It is a constant reminder that you owe yourself now to your parents.

And that is exactly my question. Are we obliged to love our parents? Are we obliged to pay the back? Do we owe them our life?

If the last time talk about this I left the discussion hanging. I am telling you now that I don’t think that you owe your parents your life. As much as I love my parents, and if bad things happened to them it would certainly makes me upset, I don’t think I owe my life to them.

It wouldn’t make me less grateful to have parents who would do anything for me, but it is sad if they do that if they want something from me in return. What things? Well, it could be extreme show of gratitude, grand children, or just simply someone to take care of them when they’re older. If you plan to have kids with that kind of vision, you’re a selfish motherfucking twat. Yes I call you twat, get over it.

And stop that judgemental look.

I don’t need anyone to tell me that I owe something I’ve never asked. I’ve never asked to be born. It was always the parents decision to go through that process and make me happen. Telling me I owe them my life because they decide to let me alive is like the bloody mobile phone service provider which let you text as much as you want without telling you that it wasn’t free and suddenly withdraw some money from your bank in the end of the month telling you that you owe them… Something you never asked. Which in fact, if they ask you in the beginning, you might never use their service at all.

Those bastards.

Not my mum. That mobile network provider.

And of course, I couldn’t tell this in my mum’s face. Isn’t that enough to show that I care about her feeling? And the fact that I never actually deleted her from my lost after sending me those junks on my inbox… Isn’t that enough to show that I love her so much that I ignore those annoyance from her? And the fact that I still talk about her and how a great mother she is in many of my posts here, isn’t that enough to show how I respect her as my parents?

If care, love and respect wouldn’t make her happy, than maybe I’m not the one who’s being ungrateful here…. Someone needs to introspect herself before sending me another bloody useless messages.


The Least I Could Do For You


I just blog walked to my friends and just found out something shocking. My friend’s boyfriend went missing.

I couldn’t believe I was tweeting about bull craps and blogging and ranting and I didn’t realise that my friend is in a real deep problem. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s going on because apparently I’m an ignorant selfish bitch.

So I dug on her twitter’s timeline and knew that her boyfriend went missing since 3 days ago. Last time seen around 10pm WIB, and the motorbike was found the next day in the gutter. Oh yes the location is Malang, East Java. I really hope my friends who lived in that area would take a further look at the information below and think of anything that might be related.

If you want more information, you can go to nengbiker’s blog (you can find her link on my blogroll… Sorry I’m on phone so cannot attach the link) or twitter account (@nengbiker). This is the link to his picture: if you’ve seen this person you can contact his girlfriend (my friend).

This is the least I could do. I couldn’t go and do the cool search and rescue stuffs. However I want to help with the way I know how, and I hope I could make a difference.

Hope you’re okay, Nengbiker 😦

It Is Natural… Allegedly


I cannot forget what a friend of mine told me about having kids. She told me if she was single and having no kids, she would have gone travelling to places she really wanted to visit. She told me that she would have bought things she wanted to buy; fragrance, clothing, shoes, make up and other beauty stuffs. Now that she has two daughters, they became her life. Because she loves them, she said.

Let me tell you something that not everybody could. Some women regretted being a mother.

These women wouldn’t tell you. Not because of the annoying excuses you would make to make her feel better, or the judgemental look you would give to her when she said that to you. It’s because, after all those troubles they’ve got from telling them about these stuffs, they wouldn’t understand anyway. How can a mother regretted having children? Isn’t being a mother a natural thing for being a woman?

Well. Yea. Allegedly.

I know I could be a good mother. Great even. I am a condescending bossy bitch, who couldn’t be easily impressed with whatever people do. I can cook healthy food and wouldn’t mind choking and stuffing people with those nutritious supplement for their sake. I don’t give in to pleas, and don’t pity idiocy. I don’t give a shit to excuses. I am a natural lie detector. And, I can tell you things nobody would.

I could have been a great mother (or Asian mother said Mr. Fix-It) if I wanted to be one. I just don’t want to.

If you don’t watch Grey’s Anatomy, you might not get the reference if I told you that in this particular case I relate myself a lot with Cristina Yang and Alice Grey. They are two great surgeons, and they loved what they are doing. Having kids would completely ruined their career, and that’s exactly what I don’t want to do.

People will tell me that if I have a kid of my own, I will love them. Well again, allegedly.

I’m pretty sure if if I ever have a child of my own I wouldn’t neglect them. However, it would still be a question whether I would do that for them out of love or because of the responsibility after I make them alive and suffer. I don’t think it is fair for them to live with a mother who’s basically think that they are the thing that stop her from being a greater her.

I may quote from Meredith Grey, the daughter of Alice Grey when she was explaining to Cristina’s husband why she needed to terminate the pregnancy.

“Okay, do you know what will happen to Cristina if she has a kid she doesn’t want? It will almost kill her. Trying to pretend that she loves a kid as much as she loves surgery will almost kill her, and it’ll almost kill your kid. Do you know what it’s like to be raised by someone who didn’t want you? I do. To know that you stood in your mother’s career? I do. I was raised by a Cristina. My mother was a Cristina. And as a child she didn’t want, I’m telling you, don’t do this to her, because she’s kind and she cares and she won’t make it. The guilt of resenting her own kid will eat her alive.”

I don’t want to hate my child.

If you don’t get it fuck off.

I don’t need anyone telling me how I should live my life. I don’t need anyone telling me how should I prepare my future. I could just live with a partner, save a lot of money to pay for the luxury retirement house. I just don’t want to be a fucking mother.

They told me that if I have children I will naturally love them. They told me if I have one I psychologically changed (from a little bit mental to a real psycho? Yeah right!). They told me that I will be sorry if one day I want one but it will physically impossible for me to have one. What year do you think you are living, cocksucking retard? Technology will allow you to have any possible means to recreate a human being. Even if it wouldn’t you can just adopt one of those misfortunate creatures resulted from idiots who don’t know how to use contraception and couldn’t terminate the pregnancy, and unfortunately didn’t have a naturally expected miscarriage.

Don’t ruin my life just because the society expected it. They wouldn’t pay for my life, my food, my education. They wouldn’t care if I had to go to the mental hospital because of the major depression. They wouldn’t pay for my kids tuition fees. They wouldn’t pay for the pregnancy shits, or take care of the other shits when the baby comes. They wouldn’t pay for the Marie France Bodyline slimming program if I became a hippo after delivering that nasty red aliens from my aching crotch. So why the fuck they care about my decision of not wanting to be a bloody mother?

Seriously. If you still think every fertile woman is destined to be a mother.

Fuck off.

TNSOFT ep. 9


“You know what? I think now I like living in the ship too,” said Coco.

“Hmm…” the princess smiled while sipping her hot chocolate really carefully.

“Do you think we can ask the captain if we can be the regular here? Rent that cabin, decorate it until it look half decent and live here?” Coco reached her mug, tempted by the satisfied look she saw on the princess’s face.

“Hmm…” Princess Cinnamon shrugged. She didn’t want to admit that actually she had thought the same.

The ocean is weird. Even if it was quiet, and the wave was calm, it was never actually silent. You can always hear the water splashing when it hit the side of the ship, and the seagulls shrieking something which sounds like an evil plan to their friends, the whales singing from afar, or the wind whispering something right in your ears it tickled sometimes. It’s as quiet as it could be. Even at night when the creatures were sleeping, and the nocturnes were not feeling chatty, they can hear the wood in the ship creaking as if it was snoring after a long day.

Sometimes the wind went a bit nasty, and the captain became a little bit angry, and everybody started to say something about panicking, and doing it really well. At those times, the life in the ocean is not so tranquil anymore. It was a full adrenaline rush from the first second the captain shouted some very obscene words about the incoming storm, to the less obscene ones when he mocked the mother nature for giving him a challenge that was too easy to complete.

But that day was not one of those day. The sun was shining, and the wind is blowing calm and happy, and somehow it was not as cold as few days ago. That day reminded Princess Cinnamon of one song Banjo often played in the marketplace, when she was so much younger. She counted the years, it must have been six or seven years ago, but she still remembered each words.

She was almost singing the song when the captain came with a smug in his face and asked both of them if they wanted to see what he saw in his station — saved Coco from an earache.

“You might like this one,” he said.

Princess Cinnamon and Coco had never visited the captain’s working room before. That was the small loft smells like burnt bladder, probably the mixture of the spilled cider and beer and the smell of smoke stuck in the air. However, both young women were too polite to stuck their fingers to their nose let alone say anything nasty about it. Captain Whale chuckled a little knowing that. The first time he brought his daughter up there, she nagged him for half an hour about hygiene and in the end told him how disgusting the smell was.

“Sorry, this room was never meant for young girls like you. However what I am going to show you can only be seen from here…” he pointed to one big window in front of the huge board with levers and colourful lamp.

It was the ocean, obviously, but this time instead of a vast amount of water, their eyes were locked to the huge island, which looked relatively small from afar. The sun was setting behind the island and created a beautiful silhouette in the orange screen, like a shadow game they used to play when they’re young. Princess Cinnamon had never seen such thing before, but she knew the only reason why the captain wanted to show her this.

“Is that…?” She could not even finish her question. There was fear that she didn’t not notice had been there all this time. The fear that it might not as beautiful as she always wished for, or the fear they would never get there. But she swallowed the fears and soon the excitement kicked in, again.

The captain nodded.

“The Land of Four Kingdom and Four Season,” Princess Cinnamon whispered as if the dark silhouette would disappear if she say its name out loud.

“When will we arrive there?” Coco couldn’t wait to get out from that small smelly room.

“I hope we would be there by tomorrow evening,” the Captain said.

The magic of the island has gone for both of them. They started to chat about the weather there, what clothes to prepare, where they would live for the first month, and so on. But not for the Princess.

The ship felt ten times slower now, and the sound of the water, the seagull, the creaking wood in the ship is no more than noises that makes her want to jump off the ship and run to the land of her dream. The smell of this room is no longer bothering her. Apparently when one of your senses is already fixed on to something, the other senses are just as useless as adding an extra pinch of salt in the sea.

The Art Of Solo Travelling


I like solo travelling. It means traveling alone, not travelling around Solo (my hometown, fyi). I’ve done that few times and I enjoyed it a lot. Even more than travelling with companies. However apparently, this kind of travelling is not very popular among Asians. First Denise told me she doesn’t like travelling by herself, and Amy told me the same, and just few days ago Nuh, my housemate told me exactly the same thing. They don’t like travelling alone.

Actually I am not surprised why. Putting them into the same category, you can see that they belong to the “asian girl” type. Apart from their independent and modern lifestyle, they still have the same core. Denise doesn’t believe that women can’t fuck around without being emotionally involved, Amy desperately wanted a marriage and well… basically a family, Nuh even said that she restricted her contact with guys. All of them believes that one day in the future I would change my mind and want to have a family.

Of course I’m still in the rant mode. The “M” word bugged me like nothing else. I’m so tensed because of that. But oh well, I’m talking about Solo Travelling aren’t I?

What I like the most about travelling by myself is the carefree attitude I can have all the time. I don’t have to worry about someone else’s request. I can walk faster if I want, or slower if I wish. I can eat when I feel hungry, or just nibble some snack when I am drowned in too much fun. I can start early, and don’t have to feel pissed because some lazy bum wanted to lie in. I can sleep early if I want to and don’t have to argue with the party animals who wanted to hang out with the DJ.

I can get lost in the city without a crybaby begging to find a taxi because her leg hurts after walking all day. Oh yes I always prefer walk if the weather is nice. I don’t have to stop to shop, or feet rub, or toilet if I don’t want to. For me solo travelling is a fuck-yeah activity.

However like what I’ve said earlier, I am understand that for many of my friends who’s in the same “asian girl” category with me, this idea of travelling without company is a hell-no. I think it is cultural. You know…

Growing up in a collectivistic culture, I can understand how vulnerable it would feel when you have to be by yourself. Taking responsibility for yourself, no safety net. Making an individual choice, and not following the group decision. And plus they are girls, being alone became twice as annoying. It means no chit chat on the train, no gossiping while having lunch break, it’s like the social life is dead while travelling. Bad.

The fact that I like travelling by myself doesn’t make me less a woman than those ladies, okay! I’m just enjoying my trip without expected nuisance. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to travel In group one day.

If I can choose my travelling buddies, they would be my sisters. Yep.

It would be great to have adventures with them. They don’t fuss, they are practical, they like what I like and they wouldn’t make weird request that would piss me out. They would definitely make perfect travelling buddies. Don’t forget to add, they are organised and they travelled a lot before, so they wouldn’t bug me with unnecessary hassles.

So, for those who likes travelling alone, there are some things that helped me a lot during travelling:
1. Google map
2. Power bank
3. Money

What I always have in my bag: music player, ID card, a bottle of water, snack, notebook and pen. Note the important stuffs like the departure time and date, the ticket reference, or the hotel booking confirmation, it would always come in handy because no one would remind you about those details. Travelling solo would require higher responsibility too.

One more thing about travelling by yourself is that it would be easier for you to make new friends, if you want to. When you are travelling by yourself you would not be these guys who sit in group and talk and laugh loudly and not only drive away potential friends but also piss some people.

Some people told me that I was so brave for travelling alone. It is not bravery. It is being prepared and being aware with what happened around you. It teach you to be smart, to be organised, and to be able to make decision for yourself.

Are you a solo traveller?

The Ladder Theory


I’m so interested with this theory. I mean it. You haven’t heard it? Well, you can just browse it if you want, because I will only give a brief explanation about this so called the Ladder Theory.

The Ladder Theory is basically explaining about the friendzone mystery. “Ladder” is the preferential level of the sexual attraction. The higher the position of someone in the ladder, the more sexually attractive the person is. So if you’re friendzoned, basically there’s someone else in the higher level of the ladder… That’s the theory for guy’s ladder.

However the author of the Ladder Theory also said that there’s the second ladder. And only girls have this second ladder. This one is the fake ladder. No matter how high you climb this ladder… Heck, it’s a fucking wrong ladder. He also mentioned the possibility for someone to jump from one ladder to the other ladder is there, although it’s near to impossible. You have to combine this with Barney’s Theory about the friendzone.

Many girls tried to deny the existence of the second ladder, and even criticised this theory; saying that this came from a bitter frequently friendzoned man. Well, it could be, but hell, can’t you see the fucking truth in it? I can. And I fucking agree with it. I just see it with a less bitter perspective.

Yes girls have two ladders. Yes boys only have one. Yes friendzone is exist.

Girls who claimed to have a lot of male friends usually realised that they’re already in the bottom of the ladder already, they just wouldn’t admit it. They wouldn’t admit:
1) The so called “male friends” are actually sexually interested to them.
2) They are in the bottom of the ladder so there are others above her. Yes competition.
3) They’re friendzoning this guy and take advantage of him.

It took years for me to understand this shit, and learn that the only way to have male friends is being up front about the friendship. Take it or leave it dude, and not let them hang like Chinese roast duck. It makes me hungry by the way.

Apparently, not only girls but also boys don’t realise about the existence of the ladder. Boys who thinks, “oh I’ve been friends with this girl forever” didn’t realise that once she went through that “ugly duckling” metamorphosis, she would surprisingly crept to the top of the ladder. Gosh, have you ever watch those teenage drama or listen to any of Taylor Swift sappy songs? No? Well, now you don’t need them because there’s a theory that helps you understand this weird phenomena.

So, do I agree with the theory which basically say that girls are biatches?

Ugh. Tough.

I agree with the theory. But I don’t think that’s the right premise to start this wonderful theory. I think this is a kind of theory which was developed from what’s constructed in the society. The role of the preys and predators, the expectation of politeness, and all that crap. It’s not something genetic, unlike the skin complexion, hair shade, or the skull shape. It is something that evolved in the society.

It’s the behaviour which was learned in order to react to what’s been thrown to them over time. Of course, like every weapon in the world, it’s being abused.

The second ladder was there to maintain politeness. Women were expected not to be rude to men, so showing a vulgar disinterest is not something that’s appreciated. It was there to fulfil the role of women as the more sociable being, while male were out there to work and ear money and be the boss. This ladder is something that helped women not to suffer too much when they were in the weaker position in the society.

I don’t think modern women need this manoeuvre. This second ladder is a flaw. It is the same with the misogynistic attitude that every single guy in the world secretly has. Screw exception.

Remember my post about stereotype? Yes we all have it. The second ladder, the misogyny, just like stereotype is something that is culturally developed. It’s unavoidable, and unfortunately isn’t easy to be wiped from human civilisation. It’s not something you can control.

But you can control your attitude. Can’t you?

Have a nice day. Cheers 🙂

TNSOFT ep. 8


Princess Violet looked unhappy, like everyone else in the palace. But she had a different reason to be unhappy. Jealousy.

Not in a way that she wanted to admit, she always admired her eldest sister, Princess Cinnamon. She was the rebellious one, the one who always be different. The one their mother always shouted at (when no servant was around), and told off because of skipping the dinner time with the royal families and spent time in the marketplace instead.

One day she went home with this old filthy banjo; everybody knew it was a gift from the outcast she met in the marketplace. Although she tried to convince everybody that she bought it. What she bought was those smuggled foreign books.

Oh how Princess Violet envied it. She wished she could understand the foreign language. She would learn it one day when she go to the Kingdom of Knowledge after she marry the prince. But she did not really want to marry. It was her ticket to go away from home and see the world outside the palace walls.

When everybody in the palace was shocked because Princess CInnamon decided to run away from the palace that very morning, she was not surprised at all. All she did was running to Prince Grey’s room and took his royal dagger decorated with gold and ruby which she won from their bet.

Oh yes. Few months before Princess Cinnamon fled from the palace, she and the crown prince made a small wager.

“Once mother tell her about the arranged marriage, I bet she would just run away from the palace,” she told her little brother.

“Oh she would not have the courage to do that,” Prince Grey laughed.

“She would,” she said while nodding.

“I would not bet on it,” Prince Grey smirked.

“I would,” Princess Violet smiled.

“What? For the golden medallion you got from father on his journey last year?”

“For your royal dagger with the big ruby on the pommel?”

And the bet is on. And she won. A little consolation for her unhappiness caused by the anger caused by the jealousy to his sister’s bravery.


“You cannot say that bravery,” Prince Grey was still sour because of losing his bet.

“Oh for me it is,” Princess Violet played with her new toy.

“Careful! It is sharp,” Prince Grey shouted anxiously, as his sister had never learned anything about weaponry.

“Well, it is a dagger, of course it is sharp,” Princess Violet rolled her eyes, pretended to get offended although she enjoyed her moment of victory.

“Would you two please cut it off,” Princess Lavender told her two younger siblings impatiently.

She could not hear about these kind of arguments anymore. She had heard their parents argued about this, and she did not need more from her siblings. Yes, her sister have run away. So what? She will be home soon when she felt all the sufferings living as a nobody in a foreign place. Why people had to make this such a big deal?

Some would side her and admired her, saying that she was brave. Some would say that she was just being foolish and immature. However, she was indifferent. She was never that close to her elder sister, she never knew why she actually ran away. But she knew that her sister had her own reason, and she knew it might be good. Why couldn’t people see things from the bright side?

Why couldn’t people see how this havoc has brought them closer. She could not remember when the last time she and her two siblings just sat in the palace garden and talked. This misfortune gave them something to discuss, something to talk about, something that had not been exist between them. Even the King and Queen started to spend more time talking with them in the regular family dinner; asking awkwardly about their day. It should be a good sign. It must have been a blessing in disguise.

Of course it would not be too pleasant knowing that the people in the entire kingdom were talking about this. It would only need one person to throw the bait and everybody would chase for the information like a hungry piranha. They said the princess ran away with the outcast from the marketplace. They said she ran because of the arranged marriage. They said that she actually died because of an unknown disease and the palace just wanted to cover the story by making up this one. They said that the Queen had disown her because she was pregnant.

It was crazy how people could just making up something to satisfy themselves, wasn’t it?

However, she knew something that her other siblings did not know. Something that was only discussed in a closed room, just between her and their parents. And Princess Cinnamon’s servant – Coconut.

Just an unimportant bit


Some people asked me why I chose this path. The boring money wasting path of education. Most of them are girls. They questioned my decision and would look at me either with disbelief or disgust. I don’t care.

Do you know why I went to the Architecture school even if I didn’t want to? My parents threatened me if I insisted to study what I wanted at that moment, they would rather confine me at home and wouldn’t let me to get any degree at all. When I told this to people, most of the reactions I’ve got would be, “oh wow cool. I’d definitely choose doing nothing.”

Isn’t that pathetic?

I really do feel sorry for girls in my country, who believe that doing nothing is better than working hard at school. I do feel sorry for them, for thinking that education is useless. That nobody would use mathematics to count money on daily life, or care enough to understand how brain works because that’s what doctors do, or read history and saying what happened in the past stay in the fucking past. I’m sorry for girls in my country who believe that studying language is ridiculous, those who take this privilege for granted.

You, ladies, are a bunch of ungrateful biatches.

Remember this when you ditch your book and say that you wouldn’t need that in the future. In some other country, education is a to-die-for. Literally.

If you don’t really care about education, I am pretty sure you haven’t heard any shit about Malala Yousafzai. Ring a bell? No?

She is a 14 years old Pakistani girl. She is an activist and a blogger and she wrote a lot about the importance of education for girls in Pakistan.

Ah. Yes. She got shot by Taliban. Twice. One in her head and one in her neck. Got your attention now? Read news for god sake. Until now when I write this blog, this girl is still in the hospital. I hope she would make it, because the world doesn’t need any more martyr.

Yes a group of religious extremist, with weapons and shit, are bloddy threatened by a 14 years old girl who shouted “education”. Something that many girls in my country take for granted (or took and grunted). Shame!

I feel shame when I read the news. I feel shame that I have spent so many years not understanding how lucky I was. I feel shame for wasting my time, and not saying anything. I feel shame for being ignorant and apathetic.


Why these Taliban were so angry, so scared, so threatened by education? It’s not going to make you a rocket scientist or a controversial journalist. It just make you a better human being with knowledge. Knowledge, however was too underrated.

Girls, imagine if you have to live in a country where you’re not allowed to have education at all. You’re fucking illiterate. Let alone twittering about your fancy dinner, you wouldn’t even able to spell your fucking name. Let alone posting status on facebook quoting Marilyn Monroe, you don’t even know who the hell Miss Monroe was. You will live in a house, or prison actually, switch off your brain, shut up your mouth, and spread out your leg whenever asked.

And that’s your life in a world without a fucking education.

This is an angry entry from me. So, cheers for reading.

Another Hacking Attempt?


Oh come on!

Which part of “this blog is the only thing that keeps me sane” these people don’t understand. Unless they are bullies whose lives are dedicated to create as much suicide attempt in the world, it is ridiculous to know that some people really really want to mess up with some personal blog. Which is not even popular.

What has happened?

So, I got this notification from wordpress that some fucktard is trying to reset my bloody password. Don’t know who. Don’t know why. Don’t fucking care. It means that someone wanted to access my blog.

Pathetic sot. I don’t see what you’re gaining from taking this blog. This blog only have around 100 unique visitors a fucking month. Some of them probably came here by accident. If I was lucky I might get few comments (and few hundreds of spam comments) in a week. It’s fucking pink, and the entries are so bloody useless. So, seriously, if anyone wanted to take over this blog to get recognition, it’s seriously a mistake.

Why the fuck, someone wanted to hack this blog?


It is someone who’s severely hurt by what I wrote in the blog. Probably some wankers who were constantly lying to their partners, or some idiots who just didn’t like the way I talked about them. You know what? I was not talking about you. And if you ever think I did, you have a problem. That’s all.

So yeah. You hate monday? I do too.

Enough for the rants.